


Back To Good

by xoVortex



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Hollstein - Freeform, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoVortex/pseuds/xoVortex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"You know cutie, if you're trying to steal a Christmas tree you'd be better off coming back after we've closed. Although I must admit, stealing a tree branch by branch is pretty clever..."</em>
</p>
<p>Laura Hollis and her dad are down on their luck, but Laura is determined to get them a Christmas tree for the first time in years. Carmilla Karnstein and her brother Will work at the Karnstein Christmas tree lot downtown. What happens when their worlds collide? Sparks fly, first kisses abound, and Carmilla has the best Christmas ever...eventually.  Happy ending, because we need that when it's cold. Story will be told in four parts. Minor edits since original post for errant punctuation, tag updates, maturity rating.</p>
<p>On tumblr at: http://xovortex.tumblr.com/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Laura sat behind the wheel of her dad's old pickup truck. She watched and waited, hoping for a space to open up nearer to the Christmas tree lot across the street from where she had parked. The dim streetlight above her clicked on and a slight shiver ran through her as she pulled her flip phone from her pocket. She checked the time. 4:37 p.m. The sun was beginning to set, and what had previously been a light drizzle was threatening to turn to rain or sleet. She calculated that she'd have just enough time to pick up a Christmas tree and get it home in time to surprise her father. Taking one last look at the darkening sky, she climbed out of the truck and made her way across the cold, half-lit street.

The brightly-lit lot sat on the corner, occupying an abandoned spot on Queen Street where Laura remembered a gas station had once stood. Now, rather than gas pumps and a small service bay, the lot held all manner of Christmas trees and a small concessions stand. Multi-colored strings of light criss-crossed above it, casting a glowing kaleidoscope of colors onto the cold, but cheery scene before her. Laura stood just outside, smiling to herself as she felt for the small wad of bills in her coat pocket. She'd managed to pick up a few extra shifts at the diner, and although she wasn't the most amazing server, she'd worked hard and saved her tips. This year the Hollises would have a Christmas tree, and it didn't matter that it was already Christmas Eve.

She strode confidently through the gates of the chainlink fence, stepping gingerly over a few multi-colored puddles before catching the eye of a young man adjusting a particularly large, beautiful fir. She waited while he finished, and her smile widened when he finally straightened up and spoke to her.

“Good evening,” he said standing and wiping his hands on his vest, “And what can I help you with?” His dark eyes glittered as he spoke, eyeing her with a derision that made her feel suddenly very small and somehow out of place.

“Hi, um," she eyed his name tag, “Will. Hi. I'd like a tree.”

“Ahh. You'd like a tree? Everyone here would like 'a tree'. What kind of tree are you looking for? Noble Fir? Douglas Fir? Pine? Spruce? Flocking or no flocking?”

Laura's eyes wandered from one edge of the lot to the other, noticing that there were many different types of trees to chose from, and that not a single one had a price tag. A family of four bustled past them, mumbling apologies of “excuse me” and “Merry Christmas” when one of them accidentally bumped into her.

“Hello?” he said impatiently. “What kind of tree are you looking for, exactly?”

“I'm...I'm not sure. I haven't really had a chance to think about it. What about that one, the one you were just setting up?”

“This is a Noble Fir. It's $54.99, because it's Christmas Eve. Normally it goes for $70.”

Laura's eyes grew wide and she opened and closed her mouth a few times before re-composing herself. “Oh. Wow, cool. OK. Yeah, so I think I'll look around a little and see. You know, to find the right one.” She crossed her arms and leaned against a light pole, looking nonchalantly in every direction but the direction of the rude, self-superior attendant in front of her.

“Of course,” Will said. “Take your time. We do close at 6:00 tonight.” He turned and walked away, his curled elf shoes jingling with every step.

“At least I don't have to dress like that for work,” Laura thought. She fought the urge to laugh out loud as he stomped away, and she walked deeper into the pseudo forest before her.

Laura's brow furrowed as she walked along and looked at trees. Big trees, little trees, ones with bald spots and fake snow. She held her hand out as she walked, grazing each tree's branches with her fingertips. Small boughs of spruce and pine littered the ground, and she crouched down to pick one up. She crushed the short pine needles between her fingers, bringing them to her nose and inhaling deeply. For a moment she looked up at the rows of Christmas trees on either side of her, the lights just above them shining down in halos of red, blue, orange and green. She did so love Christmas. The lights, the trees, the cookies and snow. And more than anything, the time with her family. The past few years had been difficult on her and her father, and this year she wanted nothing more for Christmas than to give them what he couldn't. She stood, shaking off memories of having been small and hopeful in a tree lot much like this one, back when their lives were different, before things had to change. She walked on, the drizzling mist turning into sprinkling rain.

A cold gust of wind pulled at her hair as she rounded the end of a row of trees. She pulled her plaid penguin scarf tighter around her neck and dug into her coat pocket, re-counting the crumpled bills she had with her. $27.00. Her shoulders slumped as cold pin-pricks of water began to sting her face. What kind of tree could she hope to get with twenty-seven dollars? Was there a tax on Christmas trees? Was the stand included? What kind of operation was this with no price tags and rude elves helping or “helping” customers..?

“You know cutie, if you're trying to steal a Christmas tree you'd be better off coming back after we've closed. Although I must admit, stealing a tree branch by branch is pretty clever...”

Laura looked up from the bills in her hands. She turned as she tried to make out the source of the silky voice, squinting at the backlit, antlered figure before her. She shoved the wad of bills back in her coat pocket, noticing then that she must have absent-mindedly stuffed the bough in there when she pulled her money out to count it.

“I wasn't!” Laura said earnestly. “I had picked up the branch and then the wind was blowing, and I needed both hands, and I must have accidentally...”

“Relax, I'm just kidding. Now why so glum, cupcake? It is Christmas Eve after all.”

"Oh. I'm not glum I'm just... it's cold. It's cold out here."

"Right. December and all." The figure stepped forward into the light, and then crouched down at Laura's feet. "Here," she said as she straightened up with an outstretched hand, a small smile playing across her lips. "I think this is yours?" The dark-haired girl was clad in black jeans, a red knit sweater, and a felt antler headband. Alternating red and green shoestrings laced her tall black boots, and she wore a studded leather cuff on her left wrist. The festive antlers on her head jingled when she cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrows with a playful, "Hmm?"

"Thanks," Laura said. She reached out and took the bill she had dropped, her heart beating just a bit faster when their fingers touched on the exchange. "Nice boots," she said, and she couldn't tell if the blush she felt creeping up her neck was from the closeness of the girl or simply from having been caught-off guard.

"Well, we do try to keep it merry here at 'Karnstein's Kristmas Trees'. It's part of the gig," she winked, waving her hand across the lot in a sweeping, mock-grandiose gesture. "Now, can I help you find something? You've been looking for quite a while and the night's not getting any warmer."

"Yes, Carm...el?" The girl's name tag was smudged and Laura wished she had noticed that before she started speaking. "I was just looking for a Christmas tree. The taller ones over here are beautiful, but do you have anything...smaller?"

"It's Carmilla," the girl smirked, and her dark chocolate eyes were warm and apologetic as she explained that the last small tree had been taken by the family of four that had just left. "We do have a couple of smaller trees in our 'discard' lot, but they are in pretty rough shape. Do you think you have room for something bigger? If you'll follow me, I'll show you what we've got."

Laura nodded and stepped forward to follow as Carmilla turned and walked towards a group of mid-sized, shapely conifers. Laura shoved her hands in her coat pockets, admiring how the dark but festive tree lot attendant's hair fell in shiny, brown-black waves against her shoulders. She was making a mental note to herself to keep her eyes on the trees when she felt the slosh of freezing, icy water seeping up into her left boot.

"Shhiii...oooot!" she almost cursed. Up to this point she had managed to avoid stepping into any puddles, and she chided herself for not paying better attention to what was underfoot. Laura pursed her lips in frustration as she stopped and kicked her foot, trying to shake the water out.

Carmilla stopped and turned to look back at the small brunette now doing an agitated hokey-pokey before her. It had not escaped her that the holes in the fingertips of Laura's gloves were likely from wear rather than a fashion statement, and now the girl's torn, worn out boots confirmed her suspicions. She was down on her luck, and probably had been for quite awhile. She was clean and healthy, but the men's jacket Laura wore was too big, and the only piece of clothing she had on that seemed to be of any real warming value was her scarf.

"Dang it," Laura said to herself. She shook her head and managed to smile as she looked over at Carmilla and shrugged. "At least I don't have to worry about avoiding puddles anymore."

The smirk that Carmilla had been wearing softened into a smile. "New boots for Christmas?"

"I just can't seem to let these go. They're my favorite pair," Laura fibbed, pressing her foot to the ground in order to squeeze out the last bit of water. They were her favorite pair, that was true, but they were also her only pair. Now her most recent repair job had finally given way and she really needed new boots. But that was a problem for tomorrow. "Are these the trees you wanted to show me?"

***

Will adjusted his Santa hat, pulling it tighter over his head so that it wouldn't fall off as he hefted a large tree onto the cutting table. “I can't believe you practically gave away one of our most expensive trees to that homeless girl.”

“She's not homeless, Will," Carmilla said as she grabbed the chainsaw from its place on the table.

“Why didn't you give her a 'discard' tree and send her on her way? One less thing for us to throw away. Maybe she could take all the discard trees to her dumpster house and we could kill two birds with one stone. Christmas charity! Mother did always teach us to be sardonically generous to those less fortunate, as long as it benefited our bottom line or looked good in the eyes of the public.”

“Just hold the tree steady.” Carmilla revved the small chainsaw, expertly cutting a slice off the bottom of the Christmas tree they were prepping for the family who had just bought it. 

He brushed the sawdust from his green vest, grinning. “You should have seen the look on her face when I told her how much that noble fir was. Priceless.”

“Jesus Christ, Will. Do you ever take the day off from being an asshole?” Carmilla whispered harshly. 

She looked up and smiled at the family waiting by the snowman slide for their tree. She waved at them. “It will be just a few more minutes, folks!” she called. 

Will looked over at them and waved. They waved back, their breaths billowing around their heads in the cold night air. “And the “complimentary” hot chocolate, sis? That was a nice touch, especially for a girl you're probably never going to see again.” He looked back at Carmilla. “Mother would have your head if she found out about this.”

“But she's not going to find out, is she?” Carmilla set down the chainsaw and picked up a power drill. 

“I'll pay for the tree, and besides, it will look good for our tree quota. Not to mention that our markup on these things is outrageous.” She drilled into the base of the tree, making a hole for the stand to fit into. “You really think we were going to sell that tree tonight?”

Will grabbed a stand from the stack of them and held it in place against the base of the tree. “Maybe not,” he said as Carmilla hammered it into place. “But we can't just start giving away trees on Christmas Eve. Word will get out and then everyone will wait until the last minute to buy our trees. At cut rate prices, no less. We'll be poor and destitute, and then what will we do?”

Carmilla smirked. “Now you're just being ridiculous. I can see the headline now. 'Reporter Posing As Homeless Girl Visits Tree Lot: KARNSTEINS EXPOSED'.” She turned the hammer over in her hands. “Rest assured, Will, I don't think there's any danger of people mistaking us for a charitable enterprise.”

“Thank goodness for that," he said. “All I'm saying is, you must have thought she was a real hottie to let her play you like that.”

Carmilla set the hammer down. She motioned for him to grab the trunk of the tree and they placed it upright. They looked at the tree together, checking to make sure it stood straight, tall, and steady. Satisfied with that, she turned a thoughtful eye to her brother. 

“What happened to you, Will? You weren't always like this.” 

“Me?” he said. “What about you? You used to be fun.”

“I still am fun. Not everything has to be about money and sex, you know? And I had my moments, but we were never unkind.” Well, almost never, she thought. She gazed down at the thin sheet of ice forming over a small puddle. Next to it sat the discarded puck of pine she had cut from the base of the tree that now stood upright between them.

Will sighed. “The world is a harsh place, Kitty.” 

He knelt down to pick up the circle of wood and tossed it into a bin nearby. “I don't make the rules. People have or have not, and there are a hundred thousand people who are cold, or hungry, or don't have Christmas trees.” He shrugged. “By whatever stroke of fate, I'm not one of them. Neither are you. And no, I wont tell Mother about tonight.” He paused, noticing a small pine needle that had stuck itself to one of her antlers. He reached up and carefully flicked it off. “Are you sure you wont join us for Christmas? Greece is beautiful this time of year and you know Mattie would love to see you.”

“No,” she said. “I'm sure. I've got some things to work on here and as crazy as it may sound, running off to the Mediterranean for two weeks doesn't really fit in with my plans.”

“All right. Well if you change your mind, you know you have a spot on the plane.”

“I know. Are you packed?”

“Not yet," he said adjusting the fingers on his gloves. He reached for the push broom nearby.

“Why don't you let me close up then? There's not that much left to be done here. Get these folks sorted with their tree, and I'll lock up for the evening and get the tree disposal set up. I can sweep tomorrow before they get here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Give my regards to Mother. And my love to Mattie. Let her know I'll catch up with her in Spring.”

Will looked around the lot. Despite the lack of responsibility he felt for the wayward souls of the world, he did have a sense of responsibility for those closest to him. And though they may not always see eye to eye, he wasn't about to leave his sister with an unfair burden of work. Family was family, Greece or no Greece. His eyes swept over the Christmas tree tyer, the neatly stacked trees in the corner, the emptied garbage cans. Carmilla was right; there wasn't a whole lot left to be done. 

“OK," he said after a moment. “Thanks. You sure you don't want a ride?”

Carmilla looked up at the sky. There was still moisture in the air, but the moon was bright and stars were beginning to peek through the clouds. Though the night was growing colder by the minute, she couldn't wait to walk home through the half-lit city under the counsel of the starry skies above.

“I'm sure.”

He nodded. “Merry Christmas, Carmilla.”

“Merry Christmas, little brother.” 

Will motioned for the family waiting on their tree to bring their car around. He turned back to his sister. “Text me when you get home?” 

“I will," she said, and she watched him with her hands in her back pockets as he wheeled the tree over to the side driveway and disappeared from view. 

A few minutes later, she was alone. 

Carmilla looked around, reflective. The street and surrounding neighborhood were quiet, blanketed under the cold of the night that had fallen sometime between sunset and the appearance of the girl with the soft, brown, curiously intense eyes. Will was right; she probably wouldn't see the girl again. Her thoughts wandered back to her, this small young woman with honey colored hair and holes in her boots, obstinately optimistic and carrying a burden that seemed incongruous with her age. 

Laura, she said her name was. Carmilla had spotted her during her interaction with Will, and watched as she walked slowly among the trees, touching every one, lost in thought and far away. Laura, who preferred hot chocolate over cider or coffee, and who didn't actually need help getting the tree into her truck despite accepting the offer. Laura, whose touch was electric when Carmilla had handed over her dropped dollar bill, and whose smile shone brightly enough as she drove away to give the stars a run for their money. “Nice to meet you, Carm!” she had called over the rumble of the truck's engine.

Carmilla smiled and shook her head as she walked over to the snowman slide. She flipped a switch, and the slide slowly began to deflate. She took one more look around the lot, admiring how the chainlink fence seemed to glow under the rainbow cast by the brightly-colored strings of light, the thin sheen of ice glittering like glass where it had formed on the poles.

She made her way then to the lot's entrance, grabbing the chain and the lock that would secure the Karnsteins' trees and equipment until the next morning. She caught her shadow, smirking when she realized she was still wearing her antlers. Carmilla removed the headband and put it in her bag. Her work here was done, save for her last ritual of the night. 

“Just you and me, Rudolph," she said, standing in front of the small, smiling reindeer air dancer. She patted the reindeer on the head between his glowing amber antlers. “Good night, sleep tight. You know the rest.” She winked at it and pushed a button, watching as the cheery reindeer figure dimmed and sank to the ground. 

Outside the gate, she pulled her coat more tightly around her. Looking left and right, the streets were empty save for the fog rising up from the vents. She tested the gate one last time, pulling it firmly to make sure it was secure. Satisfied, she briefly turned her eyes skyward before heading into the cool, clear night in the direction of her apartment.

***

A few blocks away, a beat-up old pickup truck rumbled to a stop in front of a worn, but relatively well-kept little house. A girl hopped out, blowing warming breaths into her hands as she prepared to pull a Christmas tree from the back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading! I'd love to read your comments and feedback. Part 2 is on its way. Happy holidays, all!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura finally gets her tree home and decorated with her dad. Carmilla finds her muse again. Neither of them can get the other out of their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter is up. Thanks for the comments and kudos on the first chapter, creampuffs! -xo

“DAD!”

Laura burst through the door of the small house she and her father shared, stopping to hang her scarf and coat on a hook in the entryway. She quickly made her way to the back of the house, turning on lights as she went. “Dad?”

“Back here, honey,” her father called from the kitchen. The house was warm, and a few small Christmas decorations hung across the doorways and in the windows. “I've just put some water on for coffee. Are you hungry?”

She walked up to him, embracing him tightly. “No thanks Dad, I'm good! I ate at work.” 

“Ooof,” he grunted as she hugged him. “Is it still raining out there? You're freezing!” Laura stepped away, surveying the kitchen and dining room before her. After a moment she grabbed a cookie from a bag on the counter and walked purposefully over to the kitchen table. 

David chuckled as he watched his daughter work, holding the cookie in her mouth as she began to push the kitchen table against the wall. “What are you up to?” he laughed.

“I,” she said as she positioned the table, “have a surprise.” She straightened up and finished off the cookie, nodding to herself once she was sure she'd made enough room in the combination living/dining room area. She shot her dad a grin that was two-parts triumphant excitement and one-part mischief, then pulled him over to his favorite easy chair. “Sit,” she said. “Now close your eyes and no peeking. I'll be right back.” 

Laura disappeared from the room, only to return a moment later to retrieve the truck keys she had tossed onto the kitchen counter. She stopped in the doorway, cocking one eye at her father. “Now remember, no peeking!”

He smiled and held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I promise,” he said, putting his hands over his eyes. “See? No peeking.” 

Laura nodded a single nod before turning and trotting down the hall to the front door. She grabbed her coat and swung the door open, a shiver running through her as the cold night air pricked her cheeks. She started down the steps, the frozen metal of the hand rail biting through her gloves. 

“Laura, honey, be careful. It's —“

“WHOA!” Laura's feet slid out from under her and she grabbed tightly to the railing, falling almost to her butt. 

“— icy .”

Laura pulled herself back to her feet and yelled to her dad, “I'm OK!” She jogged down the driveway and stood behind the truck. Little tufts of green were sticking out at her over the top of the truck's tailgate, glistening in the light from the porch. The tree was wrapped in a nylon netting that kept the branches curled tightly to its trunk, the tree stand attached firmly where the antlered girl from the Christmas tree lot had hammered it in place for her. She eyed the tree and rubbed her hands together, figuring out the best way to get it inside. “OK, Christmas tree. Let's do this.”

Laura opened the tailgate of the truck and grabbed a handful of netting. She gave the tree an experimental tug. “Not too heavy,” she thought. Laura then yanked the tree towards her in one mighty pull so that the end of it hung out over the tailgate. 

Laura squatted down, bending her knees so that she could tip the bottom of the tree over the tailgate and set it on the ground. Then, in one fluid movement, she grabbed the tree and stood, swinging the tree up and over so that it rested lengthwise on her left shoulder, perfectly balanced. 

She gripped the base of the tree tightly as she walked toward the house, then up the porch steps and carefully through the doorway. In the hall she wobbled for just a moment, having to stick her left foot far out in front of her to keep from toppling backwards. Soon she was back in the living area, and she set the tree down carefully in the spot she had cleared. She pulled a small folding knife from her pocket and cut away the netting, giving the tree a shake to re-settle the branches.

“OK, Dad,” she said. “You can look now!”

David Hollis uncovered his eyes and smiled with incredulity at the unexpected sight before him. He had smelled the fir tree when she had brought it in, but he assumed it was a Christmas candle, or a wreath; certainly not a 6-foot Grand Fir. 

“Laura, where did you get that?” he said with wonder. “And how did you get it inside?” 

“I got it tonight at the Christmas tree lot a few streets over,” she said. “'Karnstein's Kristmas Trees.' I stopped on the way home from work to pick it out and just carried it in from the truck.” 

“My daughter, 'Little Hercules',” he mused. "I could have guessed that shoveling Mrs. Carter's walkway would help keep you in shape, you know, while you take this semester off from university, but...that thing must weigh fifty to sixty pounds!”

Laura shrugged, grabbing another cookie. “It's cheaper than the gym, and she really needs the help. The tree wasn't too heavy, just a little awkward. The netting helped.” She looked appreciatively at the tree, then looked back over to her father. “Do you like it?” she asked. 

“I love it,” he smiled. 

Soon, the Hollises were decorating their tree with the boxes of lights and ornaments Laura had retrieved from the hall closet. When they had finished, the Grand Fir stood proudly adorned with strings of lights and ornaments that hadn't seen a Christmas since not long after Laura started high school. 

Laura placed the last ornament on the tree, a small blue hummingbird with shimmering faux feathers and little black eyes. She adjusted the clip so that the ornament perched evenly on its branch, and stood back. The little blue ornament stared back at them with a look of blank expectation. “I think we're ready, Dad. You want to plug it in?”

“You do the honors, honey.” 

Laura knelt down behind the tree, fishing for the lights' power cord. “Got ya,” she said as her fingers curled around it. She poised the pronged connector against the power strip and stopped. “Dad! We almost forgot – the star!”

“Oh my gosh, you're right!” he said as he stood up from where he had been enjoying his coffee. “Hang on, I'll get it.” David Hollis made his way to the hallway closet. He opened the door and felt around on the top shelf until he found the box he was looking for. He stood alone for a moment, tracing his fingers over the filigree on the blue and silver cardboard. 

When he returned, he held the box tenderly out in front of him. “Here,” he said with warmth in his eyes. His daughter looked at the box, then at him, and back at the box, finally taking it carefully from him. “Hanging the star was your mother's favorite part.” 

Though Laura heard her dad's voice crack with emotion, the smile that flashed across his face when she began to open the box was genuine. “I remember,” she said. Inside the cushioned box rested the stained glass tree topper. Laura took it delicately into her hands and held it up to look at it in the light of the living room. It was just as she remembered, an eight-pointed star made of sheets of colored glass, held together at its seams by dull, but beautiful strips of solder. She hoped the light inside still worked. 

She scooted a chair over from its spot at the kitchen table and climbed on top of it. The wide base of the tree meant she'd have to get on her tip toes to place the star, and she did so, balancing as she put the star on the very tip of the Christmas tree. “Is it straight?” she asked before getting down.

“Perfect,” David said. 

Laura smiled and hopped down from the chair, pushing it back over to its spot before reaching back to plug the lights in. “Here we go. I present to you: the Hollis Christmas Tree, 2015!”

Laura pushed the prongs of the power cord into the outlet strip with gusto. The tree lit up magnificently for a moment before the lights in the house dimmed and flickered. They rose once again to full brightness, then blinked off completely with a sizzling “POP!”. Only the Christmas tree and the radio nearby stayed on.

“Shoot,” Laura's dad said. “We must have blown a breaker. In fact I think we blew all the breakers.” He regarded the tree with fond approval, gesturing towards it. “Well, except whichever one powers that.” 

“But Dad, look. It's so...beautiful.” The room was lit up in shades of white, blue, red, orange and green. The star atop the tree shone gloriously, bathing the room in a soft rainbow assortment of diamonds, rhomboids and hectagons where the light shined through from behind the glass. “Do you think we could leave the lights off for a while?”

“Sure honey, we'll leave the lights off,” he said, slipping into his coat. “I'll get the heater back on.” He grabbed his old D-cell Maglite flashlight and walked out the back door to the breaker box. Outside, the night was clear and cold, and the air smelled fresh from the rain that had fallen earlier. He took a deep breath, enjoying the night air before resetting the tripped fuse breakers and heading back through the door. 

Inside, Laura lay on the couch. She had retrieved her yellow pillow from her bedroom, and now lay curled partially on top of it. She had turned so she could look at the tree. All the memories in those boxes of ornaments, things she had forgotten. Laura remembered them now. The glittery red globe that they'd had as long as she could remember. The lazy-eyed reindeer ornament she had made out of a candy cane and pipe cleaners in 4th grade. The dinosaur ornament they had won at a neighbor's ornament exchange party, and the light-up penguin ornament she had brought home after her first semester away at university. Somewhere between all of those years, her mom had changed from someone she spoke about in the present-tense to someone she could only refer to in the past. 

“Dad?” she said after he took a seat on the end of the couch. “Do you still think about Mom?”

He patted her foot. “Of course I do, sweetie. Every day.” 

“Do you miss her?”

He sat silently for a moment, searching for the words. The star atop the tree shimmered. Lights danced on the walls, twinkling in his eyes and then blurring before him. He hesitated briefly. When the words came, they came haltingly.

“Like...someone cut a hole in me.” 

Laura shifted on the couch and nodded, stroking her stocking feet over one another. “Me too,” she said. Then after awhile, “I think she would have really loved this tree.”

“I know she would have, honey. No doubt about it.”

“I love you, Papa.” She sat up and reached into her pocket, a small smile settling on her face as she took a picture of the tree with her flip phone. She frowned a little for a moment at the dimness of the picture, but she knew it would be enough to remember the tree by, months from now when Christmas had long since passed.

“I love you too.” He sat up a little. “Hey, why don't you go get us the box of Christmas cookies from the cabinet? The one the guys at the precinct sent over.”

“Sure!” she said, standing up and heading for the kitchen. She opened the cabinet. On top of the box of cookies sat a small, rectangular white box, wrapped with a red bow. “What's this?” she asked. 

“Bring it over here,” David said. She brought the box and the cookies back to the couch. “Now, I had planned to wait until tomorrow to give this to you, but...Merry Christmas, Laura.”

Laura held up the box and shook it a little. “What is it?” she asked. 

“Open it!” he grinned.

She removed the bow and set the box on her lap, sliding the top of the box off. Her eyes grew wide with recognition. “You got me an iPhone!?” 

“Now it's not the newest model, and it's refurbished, but I got the warranty and a pretty good data plan, and one of the guys knows how to fix them in case you...”

“It's amazing! How did you....can we afford it?”

“Don't worry about that,” he laughed. “I have my ways. And don't go giving it away to someone less fortunate like you did your boots.”

She shrank guiltily. “You knew about that?”

“Let's just say you didn't get all of your smarts from your mother,” he winked. “Now come on, let's take a proper self...photo? And remember, no sending pictures of yourself to strangers on the internet.”

Laura laughed. “It's 'selfie', Dad. And don't worry, I won't.” They turned, standing in front of the tree. Laura held her new phone out in front of her, framing them so that the tree and the star were in the picture. “Smile!” she said.

*** 

That night, Laura brought her blankets from her room out to the couch. “I think I'll sleep out here, Dad," she had said. She loved the way the tree gently lit up the room, and she wanted to be able to look out the window. She had snuggled up on the couch, her blankets pulled tightly just under her chin. The moon was full, and if she leaned over the couch a little she could angle her head enough to look out the window and see it. Pretty soon, she knew, it would come into view and she wouldn't have to lean anymore.

Laura's mind wandered back to the girl at the tree lot. Carmilla's smile had made Laura feel weightless and at ease, and she remembered how Carmilla had cocked her antlered head and regarded her with an amused curiosity. She'd grinned like a fool when Carmilla had handed her her hot chocolate from the concessions stand, her fingers lingering around the cup a little longer than necessary. More than once she thought she had felt the girl looking at her while she and the angry elf were getting Laura's tree ready, even though whenever she looked directly at Carmilla, the girl's attention was focused elsewhere. And when she'd driven away, Laura could almost swear that she'd seen Carmilla stand and watch her until she turned the corner. 

But, she considered, Carmilla had been standing in the shadows when Laura had left; if she thought about it, in the reflection of the small rear view mirror she couldn't be sure whether she was walking away or standing still. Maybe the girl was just trying to make a sale. Maybe she was just a nice person, or maybe Laura was seeing what she wanted to see. 

“Still...” she mused silently. Something had been there in her touch. 

Laura sighed and pulled the blankets further up her face, burrowing in deeper so that just her eyes peeked out. “Carmilla Karnstein,” she said quietly to herself, and yawned. The moon had slid into view, casting its pale light in a starkly defined square on the floor. She looked at it, then at the hummingbird shimmering in the lights of the tree. The little blue hummingbird stared blankly at her still, and neither it nor the moon offered her any answers. Her eyes settled on the glowing star at the top of the tree, eventually fluttering closed. 

She opened an eye to take one more look at the room before her, smiling a tiny smile before burrowing more deeply under the covers and finally drifting off to sleep. 

*** 

Under the light of the same sky, Carmilla sat in her apartment looking thoughtfully at her ink-stained fingers. 

When she'd gotten home, she had sent her brother a text as promised and immediately sat down to sketch. Her work space was full and blotched in places with dried ink, and stacks of paper sat on either side of her. Yet somehow between the ink pots, brushes, water container and pencils on her desk there was a certain, practical order to the chaos. 

She looked again at the partially finished portrait before her, trying to figure out what had stopped her from continuing. Her hand hovered over her erasers, choosing a white rectangular one to clean up the light graphite lines around the areas where the ink had already dried. She picked up her ink brush again, then set it down, contemplating the drawing on her desk. 

“Your nose isn't quite right,” she finally said to the figure. Carmilla's fingers drummed lightly on the desk next to the textured vellum surface of the paper. She picked up her pencil and added the slightest of bumps to the bridge of the nose. 

“There you are.” Laura stared back at her, eyes deep and filled with quiet determination. Her mouth hung slightly open, hair framing her face in thick, flowing waves. This was how Carmilla had first seen her, just after she'd inquired about the Christmas tree Will had been re-positioning. Carmilla lightly re-traced the curve of Laura's jawline, satisfied that the sketch was ready to be completed.

Carmilla picked up her brush, inspected the tip, and dipped it lightly back into the ink pot. She inked over the lines she had traced, the brush moving steadily and with expert precision. Strands of hair appeared magically under the varying weight of its tip, flowing effortlessly from her well-practiced fingers. She continued to stroke lightly over the paper, and soon the curve of Laura's jaw had emerged. 

When she had finished, she set her brush down and sat back. On her desk, the face of the girl with the worn-out boots, oversized coat and scarf looked at her, captured perfectly in stark inky blackness against the creamy white paper before her. Carmilla looked out the window. Outside, the moon had risen completely and the sky twinkled with the brightest stars.

She stood up and walked to the window, resting her hand on the sill as she looked out over the city. Wet, empty pavement glittered under the streetlights and building signs, and she watched as a lone taxi traced its way between blocks of buildings in the middle distance. Further, houses dotted her view, lit up with Christmas decorations and quiet under the dark of the Christmas sky. She wondered if any of those houses were Laura's, and she wondered what the tree from her lot looked like now.

Carmilla sat back down at her desk, examining her portrait for dryness. She picked up her malleable silver eraser and pulled it between her fingers a few times, folding it over itself to make sure it was clean. She rolled it into a ball, flattening it a bit before dabbing it on the paper to pick up leftover graphite. Once the graphite lines were gone, she picked up her pencil and hovered the tip over the bottom of the portrait. 

“Hmm,” she hummed as she considered a title. She smiled in amusement as it came to her. Grasping her pencil between her index and middle finger, she wrote in block printing: “CHRISTMAS TREE HUNT.”

She looked at her work for a moment, then lowered her eyebrows and reached for her white eraser. She rubbed away the words she had written, replacing them with simply, “Laura.”

Carmilla brushed her hair from her face and stretched, raising her arms above her head. She carefully screwed the top onto the ink pot, then grabbed her brush and brush soap. She walked to the small kitchen area, dabbing her hands clean with a small towel nearby reserved for that purpose. No matter how careful she tried to be, she always managed to get a little bit of ink on her fingers. She ran some clean water into a cup, watching as the ink from the brush swirled around it. When she had gotten most of the ink off, Carmilla dabbed the long delicate bristles of the brush into her jar of brush soap, painting in light strokes to gently lather the tip.

She rubbed the bristles gently between her fingers as she rinsed them. In a few hours, Christmas day would dawn. The day would be hers to spend as she pleased, and she was relatively free of any responsibility except for making sure the extra trees at the tree lot were taken away for disposal sometime before the new year. Maybe she would finish one of her commissions, or take her sketch book with her on a walk through the city. 

Carmilla set her brush to dry, deciding to leave her work space in its current condition until the next morning. As she moved to get ready for bed, she realized that she had never changed out of her red sweater and Christmas boots. She had been so eager to commit to paper the image of the girl in her head. Now that that was done, she could finally sleep. 

She pulled her boots and jeans off and crawled into bed. The red numbers on the clock glowed at her from her bedside table. It had been a little less than twelve hours since she had met Laura. The day had been pretty ordinary up to that point, and she considered sadly that no, she probably wouldn't see Laura again. But at least she had her portrait from tonight, and she mused that there were more where that came from. 

_Laura._

“Maybe next Christmas Eve,” she thought, and fell heavily asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed. Happy New Year, everyone! -xo :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas morning. Carmilla and Laura finally meet up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies to those who have been waiting a year for an update to this one. Merry Christmas!

Laura shifted sleepily in her makeshift cocoon. She exhaled contentedly, smiling as her breath warmed the comforter bundled up around her nose. The room was still dark, save for the multi-colored glow projected about the room from the Christmas tree Laura and her father had decorated the night before. Laura was cozy here, huddled in the quiet stillness between sleeping and waking. 

She stirred again, stretching a bit then instinctively hiding her feet from the cold of the room and nuzzling deeper into the blankets. Today was an important day, she remembered. School today? No. Work? No, neither of those. She sniffed, and was slowly beginning to open her eyes when all at once her senses clarified the signs before her. The cold, the quiet, the lights, and the smell of freshly-cut fir could only mean one thing. 

“It’s Christmas!” she whispered. 

Laura swung her feet off the couch and immediately stood up into a stretch. She raised her arms above her head, grunting as she took a few steps toward the kitchen, her calves flexing as she walked on tip toes. She yawned, then paused as she listened for any indication that her father was up yet. Silence. He must still be asleep, she thought. She retrieved two cups from the cupboard, then grabbed hot chocolate mix for herself and instant coffee for him. She paused, looking at the coffee crystals in the dim light of the kitchen. Light from outside reflected on the jar, and Laura raised her eyes to the kitchen window. 

Outside, snow blanketed the yard, undisturbed and pristine in the early dawn. She smiled a little as she admired the street before her, quiet and reflecting softly the pinkish orange hue of the streetlights. Across the street, light-up reindeer pranced in formation on the neighbors’ lawn. Laura grinned as she remembered the antlered tree lot attendant from the day before. 

She’d been focused on counting what little money she had, and Carmilla had seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Laura had heard her before she’d seen her, and remembering that voice still made her stomach do flip flops. The night had been very cold, but somehow she hadn’t minded the holes in her boots or her frayed gloves when Carmilla was with her. 

Then when she’d handed Laura the change from her Christmas tree, Carmilla’s smile had been genuine and beautiful; easy, as though spectacular Grand Firs were regularly bought and sold for under twenty dollars. Laura wondered if Carmilla understood what her kindness had meant for her and her father. She marveled briefly at the gratitude inspired by small gestures, and at the difference small kindnesses can make in the right moment. 

Laura looked past the reindeer, over the snow and up at the pre-dawn sky. She scanned the horizon, fixing on the brightest of the remaining stars. She squinted at it, then made a small wish. She closed her eyes, and asked for one thing more. 

When she was done, Laura opened her eyes. She stood staring at the star a little longer, and then the weight of the jar in her hand brought her back to the moment. An idea struck her, and she turned to put the coffee and hot chocolate back in the cupboard.

Laura padded quietly to the entryway and grabbed her coat. She fished around in the pockets, confirming with a quick glance that she had plenty of money left over to surprise her dad with fresh, hot coffee from the cafe down the street. She unfolded the bills and realized she had more than enough to buy herself something, too. Indulgence had become rare for them, and getting coffee out had become a special treat. But, Christmas only came once a year and it would be a perfect start to their day. With a nod, she flung her coat on the chair back and turned toward her room to get dressed.

A few seconds later, Laura was wincing, hunching her shoulders at the clatter of the chair that had tipped and crashed to the ground. 

“Crap,” she whispered. 

“Everything okay, honey?” Papa Hollis had appeared in the doorway, looking around for any signs of trouble. His face softened with relief when he saw the fallen chair on the ground.

“Sorry, Dad. Did I wake you?”

“No sweetie,” he said. “I was already up. Going out?”

Laura finished lacing up her boots. She tied her scarf around her neck and said, “I was going to surprise you with coffee. From the coffee shop.” 

“Oh-ho, the coffee shop.” He smiled, teasing her. “And is a certain tall, dashing, red-headed barista who happens to know your order by heart going to be working today?”

“Dad! Seriously?” She laughed and smacked him on the arm, lightly.

“What? She seems nice!” Laura’s dad adjusted her scarf, then handed her her gloves. He smiled. “Listen honey, I just want you to be happy. Bring her by later if you want, okay? Maybe she can help out at the food bank.” 

“Okay, Dad.” Laura steadied her bike in the entryway with one hand and opened the door with the other. “Just black coffee, right?”

“You got it. And watch out for ice.”

She leaned her bike against the door, then ran over to give him a quick hug. “I will.”

She maneuvered her bike down the steps and out to the side walk. She wrapped her scarf around the lower half of her face, and shivered a little in the cool morning air. She hopped on her bike and pedaled west, looking behind her at the line her tires cut in the snow.

Her father waved from the porch. “And watch out for cars!”

She waved back at him, then grinned as she picked up speed. The truck was convenient, but she was trying not to put miles on it, and there was no greater freedom she knew than racing through the city on her bike. She stood up and pedaled hard, hopping off the curb as the wind whipped her hair.

***  
Carmilla groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. It was early. Entirely too early, and she had woken up and been unable to get back to sleep. Now her nose was cold and she was beginning to get a caffeine headache.

She sat up, eyes closed and frowning. She blinked a few times, and when she caught her reflection in her window she decided she looked far too grumpy for Christmas morning. Carmilla dug around in her blankets for the wool Santa hat she had slept in. She tugged it down over her ears, frowning deeper when the top stood straight up. She whipped her head to the side, and the pointed tip of her hat promptly flopped over. 

“Better,” she said to herself.

She looked around her small apartment, thinking about what to do with her day. She could spend it here, working on commissions. Or take her sketchbook and head to the distillery district. She decided that whatever her plans, coffee was first on the list. She couldn’t work without coffee.

She stood up, taking her blankets with her. Snow had fallen since she had gone to sleep, and far below, the city was quiet and still. Last night the air had been cold, and although the stars had been out and visible, the moisture in the air had told of the coming snow. Now, everywhere she looked there was white, visible even in the dim glow of street lights and the not yet risen sun. 

She shuffled over to the kitchen area and opened the cabinet. When she pulled the coffee canister off the shelf, distant alarm bells began to sound in her mind. The canister felt awfully light. She set it on the counter and looked at it, willing it to have enough coffee to make one last cup. She put her hand on the lid, took a breath, then pulled it off and looked inside. 

Empty. 

“Damn,” she said. She grumbled to herself as she sorted through the other items in the cabinet, trying to remain hopeful as she looked for her reserve canister.

Nothing. She got on her hands and knees to check the bottom shelf, and strained to look on the top shelf. Still nothing. 

She pouted internally for a moment, then put on some water for tea. The only open coffee shop on Christmas was a couple miles away, and while she didn’t mind the walk, she figured she could at least warm up before she went. The cool air had always been good for her creative process, and although snow had fallen it wasn’t unutterably cold. Maybe she’d hole up at the coffee shop a bit and sketch what she saw, or just soak in the atmosphere before heading to the park.

She drank her tea, then got dressed and grabbed her keys. She checked her phone. No messages. Will, Mattie, and Maman were probably still asleep. She headed for the door, then turned as she got the distinct feeling that she was forgetting something. 

Carmilla stood in the doorway. She cocked her head and looked around, then remembered that her sketchbook was still sitting on her desk. She walked over to where it lay open, and smiled fondly when she saw the portrait she’d drawn the night before. Her eyes traced over the cleanly inked lines, and she decided that it was one of the better pieces she’d drawn in awhile.

“Laura,” she said, and smiled.

She closed her sketchbook and dropped it and her phone into her bag. With keys in hand, locked her apartment door and made her way down the stairs. 

At ground level, the city was as still as it had looked from her window. It had snowed just enough to more than dust the streets, and in the lamp-lit glow of the early morning the snow was soft, crisp, and white. The streets were relatively empty, and the predominant sound was of her own boots crunching over the snow. Occasionally she stopped to stomp clumps of wet, stubborn snow from her boot treads. And once when she did, a lone sparrow fluttered out from a bush and twittered up into the early morning sky.

Carmilla huddled into her scarf as the cold air left behind by the storm threatened to cut through her layers of clothing. Underfoot, the snow was beginning to collect into pools of slush. Cold seeped through Carmilla’s leather boots, and she thought again of the puzzling young woman who had marched through the gates of her tree lot the evening before. 

She had watched as Laura stepped through the trees, first examining them and then losing herself in their rows. She hadn’t seemed to mind when the mist had turned to sprinkling rain, and Carmilla wondered how it was that the girl in the oversized coat continued to exude such a quiet strength. The air of determination had never left her, even as she babbled earnestly about the definitely-not-stolen tree bough in her pocket, or absentmindedly plunged into an icy puddle. 

Laura was warm and genuine. Captivating, and so different from the company she usually kept. Being with her was easy, and by the end of their meeting Carmilla had found herself absolutely charmed. A passing car roused her from her thoughts, and just ahead she could see the glowing windows of her destination.

Carmilla stepped inside the coffee shop, blowing on her hands and removing her scarf. The line at the register was short, but the rustic wooden tables were more full than she would have expected this early on Christmas morning. She eyed the specials board, and ultimately decided on her favorite: a Cortado. She hoped that the espresso would be just the thing to curb her headache, and she stepped to the front and placed her order when the barista motioned to her. 

“That will be $2.95. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you. That will do it.” The walk had made Carmilla colder than she’d realized, and she fumbled to pull her gloves off in order to slip her wallet out of her jeans. 

Her brow furrowed with concern as she checked first one empty pocket, and then the other. Her concern only grew as she found her coat pockets empty as well. When she set her bag on the counter to look through it, she stole a glance behind her to see that the line had grown considerably. Cold air breezed in as another patron opened the door, and a tired-looking woman with a child in her arms glared at her with growing impatience.

Beside them, a second barista opened up the next register. “I can take whoever is next over here!” he called. Someone behind her muttered under their breath and said, “Finally.”

“I’m sure it’s here somewhere…” She tried to smile as her cheeks reddened, keeping her eyes on her bag. Maybe she had put her wallet in the innermost zippered pocket?

Her stomach sank as all at once realization washed over her. She remembered standing in her doorway, head cocked to the side, trying to figure out what she had been forgetting. She’d walked to her desk and gotten her sketchbook. But she knew now that what her brain had been trying to remind her to bring was definitely not her sketchbook. 

Carmilla had a distinct memory of slipping her phone and keys into her pocket, but nothing else. She remembered then that she had set her wallet next to her phone charger when she’d texted her brother the night before. She cursed silently, then sighed.

“I seem to have forgotten my wallet…” Carmilla said. She looked up at the barista, noticing in an instant that a second person was now standing behind the register. 

She raised her eyes and looked up, past the “Manager” badge, and up, up, up. She followed the long torso and broad shoulders to their end, settling finally on the face of a scowling Danny Lawrence. The same Danny Lawrence who has had it out for her since that unfortunate incident at the Beltane Bash last spring.

_Shit._

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. I didn’t think you woke up this early, Karnstein.” Danny was smiling at her politely in the ways of someone well-practiced in customer service, but the steely glint in her eyes told Carmilla that she still hadn’t forgotten how Carmilla had crossed her. 

She was about to back out of there completely when she heard a cheery, familiar voice behind her.

“I’ve got it!” 

Danny’s face softened immediately. Carmilla turned to see that the source of the cheery voice was the same girl she had met the evening prior. Her nose was red, and she wore the same oversized green coat and penguin scarf as before. She brushed her hair out of her face and smiled, and when she did Carmilla completely forgot about her missed wallet. 

Carmilla stood in surprise for a moment, then groaned inwardly as Danny subtly flexed her shoulders. Danny smiled broadly, and spoke. 

“Hey, Laura.”

When Laura’s eyes fixed on her, Carmilla tilted her head to the side and grinned. Whatever had already transpired that day, she knew her Christmas was about to get a thousand times better.


End file.
